


Body Heat

by ArgentSleeper



Series: Episode AUs [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s04e01-02 The Darkest Hour, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentSleeper/pseuds/ArgentSleeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur rolled his eyes when Merlin fainted at the feast of Samhain.  But why would he do that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [C0c0plumb (cocoplumb)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocoplumb/gifts).



> Based off this merlin_finders post: http://merlin-finders.livejournal.com/1509989.html#comments

Arthur fought with a growing irritation through the rest of the feast.  Logically, he knew Merlin hadn’t fainted on _purpose_ at the end of his speech –particularly since he wrote it himself –but that didn’t stop the coincidence from irking him.  Honestly, what had the idiot done now?  Probably he wasn’t taking care of himself.  Maybe in all the bustle of the day he forgot to eat and now he was withering like a fragile blossom.

 

Whatever it was, he was fine.  There had been no reason for Lancelot to rush over like he’d been attacked by a savage beast.

 

Especially since Arthur couldn’t do so himself.

 

The feast seemed to drag on after that.  Another servant took Merlin’s place with a new jug of wine, but of course the skittish boy didn’t make scathing or silly or filthy comments in Arthur’s ear whenever he refilled the prince’s goblet like Merlin would have.  Lancelot didn’t return by the time the last of the guests were filling out of the hall.

 

Nor did Gaius or Merlin.

 

He wasn’t _worried_.  Worried would imply something was wrong, and nothing was wrong.  Merlin was tired.  Merlin had the flu.  Merlin was _fine_.

 

Arthur was purposefully blocking out the memories of the last time Merlin had passed out at a feast.

 

But he should at least go and scold the man for interrupting the festivities.  Yes, that was right.  No one would expect any less.

 

Halfway there Arthur spotted an anxious looking Lancelot.  “What’s the news?”  He wanted to make a mocking comment about Merlin doing this to himself, but the frown on the knight’s face stopped him.

 

“He’s resting.  Gaius is with him.”

 

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, though Lancelot still looked forlorn.  “I’ll go see him then.  He’s probably expecting to get the day off.  He’s got another think coming if he thinks he’ll get off that easily.”

 

“I’m sorry, sire.  By resting I meant still unconscious.  I don’t know if you’ll be able to speak with him tonight.”

 

Arthur’s blood ran cold.  _He’s fine.  This isn’t like last time.  You didn’t even see him drink anything._   “What happened?” he demanded, keeping his voice as even as possible.  “What is Gaius’s diagnosis?”

 

“I don’t…  I’m not sure if he had one, sire.  It was very odd.”  There seemed to be something the knight wasn’t telling him, and it made his heart beat faster.

 

“Right.  Then I’d best go see Gaius.  I can’t have my servants falling ill with strange diseases.  Who knows what they could pass on?”

 

Lancelot looked like he wanted to stop him, but Arthur ducked away before he could say any more.

 

Arthur knocked firmly on Gaius’s door before charging in.  The physician was pouring something into a phial.  Arthur’s heart eased to see the old man didn’t look any more stressed than he normally might over another patient.  He glanced up from his work at the sound of the door.  “Hello, sire.  May I help you?”

 

“I’m here to see Merlin.  How is he?”

 

Gaius smiled reassuringly.  “He will be fine, sire.  He woke up not long ago.  I was just preparing a draught to help him sleep tonight.”

 

“What’s wrong with him?  Why did he pass out?”

 

“It’s the, ehm, changing of the seasons,” Gaius answered quickly, nodding fervently as if agreeing with his own answer.  “The difference in climate can have an adverse reaction to some.”

 

Arthur crossed his arms and frowned.  “Merlin has never had such a reaction in the past.  And he hasn’t mentioned a word about not feeling well.”  A little niggling in the back of his head tried to point out that Merlin _wouldn’t_ say anything to keep from worrying him, but he batted it aside.

 

“No, but Merlin _has_ been under quite a bit of stress lately, as have you. I’m surprised you haven’t been feeling the effects as well,” the physician chastised.  “Merlin does his best to stay strong for you, but sometimes our bodies reach a limit we cannot push beyond.”

 

 _That_ was a guilt trip if he’d ever heard one.  Arthur recognized it as such immediately, but the truth of it stung enough he couldn’t call Gaius out on it.  “May I see him?”  He didn’t know why he was asking; he was practically the _king_ , but it felt like as much of an apology as he could manage right then.

 

Gaius softened.  “Of course, sire.  Here, take this to him.  If he protests tell him I could force him to drink much worse.”  Arthur grimaced.  He’d had some of those worse potions.

 

Carefully Arthur approached Merlin’s room.  He knocked gently, waiting for a response before entering.  “Merlin?  It’s me.”

 

Merlin beamed at his presence.  Of course he didn’t know how the prince had reacted after his fainting. Arthur felt horribly ashamed of himself now. Merlin could have been dying, and he had rushed to annoyance instead of compassion.  The young man still looked dreadfully pale, and shivered slightly even under mounds of blankets.  “Is that Gaius’s brew?  I told him I didn’t need it.”

 

“Sure you don’t.  Just like you also don’t _need_ to come with me to visit Princess Elena next week.”

 

He pouted.  “But Elena was going to teach me how to beat you at horse racing.”

 

“Just think how it would look, _Mer_ lin.  Prince Arthur mistreating his servant, allowing him to work after falling ill.  People would start to talk.”

 

“Fine, fine, I’ll take your stupid potion.  Give it here.”

 

Arthur sat down on the bed next to Merlin.  He could practically felt the waves of ice radiating off him.  He laid a hand on the frozen forehead.  “Are you really all right?” he asked softly.

 

Merlin reached up and took the hand away, twining the fingers together with his.  “I am.”

 

“Here, budge over,” Arthur slipped beneath the layers of blankets.  “You’re like an icicle, Merlin.  Hasn’t anyone ever taught you the importance of body heat?”

 

He snuggled closer.  “No, but they’ve taught me the importance of sharing it.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur slipped away once Merlin was sufficiently warm, and though his half-conscious state didn’t allow him to show it, he was inordinately pleased when Merlin showed up to work looking none the worse for wear.

 

But then the news of the Dorocha came, and a shiver went unbidden up Arthur’s spine.


End file.
